


Control

by ziskandra



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Come as Lube, Comes Back Wrong, Control Ending, Hand Jobs, M/M, Renegade Shepard (Mass Effect), Shepard lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra
Summary: Garrus will do whatever he can to save the man he loves – even if he can’t bring himself to say the words aloud.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



Shepard’s skin is deceptively soft against the sharp points of Garrus’s talons. He’s been in enough battles with and against humans to know how easily most of them bled if you could get underneath their armour.

Commander Shepard, however, is no ordinary human. They’ve been doing this together long enough now that when Shepard scrunches his eyes and hoarsely gasps ‘ _harder’_ , Garrus does not hesitate to oblige. His fingers at Shepard’s throat squeeze tighter without the old fear of crushing his windpipe. All of Shepard’s skin and muscle had been reinforced upon his reconstruction, the memory of which, the implications, still make Garrus’s heart tighten in his chest. Make him press down harder.

Maybe he couldn’t be so rough with another human, but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t plan on doing this with any other human, or anyone else at all. They’d danced around each other for too long not to enjoy every moment they have together now, after everything they’ve been through. After everything they’ve lost.

Shepard isn’t the type of man to open up about his struggles, but Garrus always got the distinct impression Shepard hadn’t expected to survive the firing of the Crucible. He almost hadn’t. He’d spent months in that coma after they’d located his body, and Garrus had barely left his side at all. The humans believed people in that state could potentially hear everything happening around them, and Garrus… Garrus allowed himself to believe it, too.

When Shepard’s eyes cracked open and he mumbled through parched lips, the first words he’d uttered to Garrus were, _they’re part of me now_.

It wasn’t until many months after, until Shepard was well enough to stand again, that Garrus learnt that _they_ were the Reapers.

Garrus’s spare hand strokes Shepard’s cock with long, languid strokes, visible veins where there should be ridges, and when Shepard bucks into his palm, it’s an unspoken cue to go faster. Shepard’s breathes comes in rough pants, the combination of arousal and the pressure against his throat affecting his respiration. _Why do you like it?_ Garrus had once asked Shepard in the glow of their aftermath, and Shepard had laughed, a hand rubbing the soft skin of his neck where there should have been bruises.

 _It makes me feel alive,_ he’d said, and his demands had only grown more consistent, more demanding, with every passing day. 

Shepard’s entire body tenses and Garrus can’t help but think of how irresistible he looks like this, on the cusp of his release. Garrus can feel his plates shifting, his cock shifting from semi-to-fully erect, and now, with Shepard on the brink of climax, Garrus doesn’t do anything to prevent it from extending outwards.

With clenched teeth and still-scrunched eyes, Shepard comes into Garrus’s hand. Garrus isn’t sure if the novelty of humans’ sexual emissions will ever wear off. The fluid is thicker and more translucent than his own release. He removes his hand from Shepard’s throat and Shepard takes in a deep, shuddery breath, like there’s something rattling in his chest.

Shepard doesn’t smile much, but when he does, it’s exhilarating.

“You’re so good to me, Garrus,” he says, the soft red glow of his now open eyes at odds with the look of adoration on his face.

It makes something stir deep within Garrus’s chest. Something he doesn’t quite know how to voice aloud, not yet.

“Not good enough,” murmurs Garrus as his now come-smeared fingertips trace the tight ring of muscle circling Shepard’s entrance. Maybe if Shepard had been any other human, Garrus would be wary of having his talons so close to sensitive flesh. But Shepard isn’t any other human. That’s the whole point. 

Shepard wriggles his hips, so much so that for a moment, Garrus actually is worried about scratching him. “Fuck me,” Shepard gasps, and the command, so succinct and to-the-point, is enough to make Garrus’s cock swell to its full length. Shepard wastes no time in wrapping a hand around the tip of Garrus's shaft, carefully missing the barbs.

Something akin to a wry smile makes it ways upon Garrus’s features. “Will that help?” he asks.

“ _Yes_ ,” Shepard answers. Short, sharp, insistent. When Garrus doesn’t immediately respond, Shepard elaborates, “Make me feel human again.”

 _Not like the Reapers._ Shepard doesn’t come right out and say it, but he doesn’t need to. Garrus hears him anyway.

It’s difficult to prepare a human the same way he might have a fellow turian, but Garrus does his best with what he has. It’s not like he has to worry about hurting him. He spreads as much of the come as he’s able, before it hardens and cools in the open air of the room.

Shepard’s always more vocal, more open, after orgasm. He tilts his hips and offers Garrus and endless stream of encouragement: _yes, yes just like that_ , like it’s not his own come Garrus is using to make his entry a little bit easier.

Once he’s done as much as he can, Garrus gives his cock a final stroke with his hand before lining it up with Shepard's waiting arse, Shepard spreading his legs wide in invitation. “Don’t hold back,” Shepard tells him, and Garrus’s skin prickles in anticipation. He won’t and he doesn’t, entering Shepard in one firm thrust.

Letting out a hiss of gratification and pain, Shepard’s fingers grip against the curve of Garrus’s waist, and the pressure against his sensitive skin almost makes Garrus come there and then. At his hitched intake of breath, Shepard laughs under his breath, lowering his hands. Garrus is clued up enough on human social cues to know it’s an apology.

“Harder,” Shepard pleads, and Garrus does his best to balance the competing factors of wanting to last as long as he can, while also hearing the distant roar of his impending orgasm ringing in his blood. Fuck, they’ve barely started, but he’s so _close_ …

He remembers, almost too late, that harder means two things, these days, and he reaches up with one of his forearms to brace it against Shepard’s throat. The noise Shepard makes is more turian than human; it makes Garrus twitch deep inside him as he continues his movements.

“Drown them,” Shepard gasps out. Garrus’s hips are starting to hurt; his body wasn’t made to fuck a human like this, but it’s not from a lack of trying. Besides, Shepard is suffering, and he’ll do whatever he can to alleviate Shepard’s pain. Even if it’s temporary. Hell, hasn’t everything always been temporary with them? Would they even know how to be with one another without the fear of death hanging over their heads?

The fate of the galaxy is so fragile, so tenuous. Shepard might be controlling the Reapers, but how long can it truly be before they’re controlling _him_?

With one final thrust, Garrus can no longer hold back, spills himself as he’s buried deep in Shepard’s arse. They’re both speaking now, but none of the sounds are intelligible, more an intermingled list of swear words, both turian and human.

They both move at the same time, faces meeting each other halfway as Garrus presses his fringe to Shepard’s forehead. There are so many things he could, should, tell Shepard here. But the words don’t come and instead they hold each other, listening to the sound of one another’s erratic breathing until it slows, stabilises, calibrates.

As Garrus gingerly pulls out, Shepard’s eyes scrunch up tight again.

“You alright?” Garrus asks, tracing a hand against the curve of Shepard’s shoulder.

Shepard smiles wryly. Always the brave face. “They’re coming.”

The Reapers always return once they think Shepard and Garrus have finished fucking. Garrus isn’t sure if it’s because the Reapers want to give them some privacy, or they find sex some sort of extraneous, debasing organic ritual.

He just knows the Reapers are threatening to destroy Shepard from the inside out. Garrus will do whatever he can to save the man he loves – even if he can’t bring himself to say the words aloud. 


End file.
